


don't be a stranger

by satellight



Category: Haikyuu!!
Genre: Canon Compliant, Character Study, Introspection, M/M, daichi having a big old heart and using it to love his team
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-10-09
Updated: 2020-10-09
Packaged: 2021-03-07 23:28:11
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,098
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26905879
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/satellight/pseuds/satellight
Summary: Daichi can taste it. He can feel it in the air, something good. Something new but nostalgic. He can feel it like a strong hand on each shoulder, like Asahi and Suga flanking him on the court. They’re there. They’re always there.
Relationships: Azumane Asahi & Sawamura Daichi & Shimizu Kiyoko & Sugawara Koushi, Sawamura Daichi/Sugawara Koushi
Comments: 6
Kudos: 43





	don't be a stranger

**Author's Note:**

> i've posted two days in a row ,, which is so wild to me
> 
> anyway! i really like this one, so i hope u enjoy!!
> 
> title is a common phrase but specifically i plucked it from "scott street" by phoebe bridgers :)

The Karasuno gymnasium floor is covered in blood, sweat, and an ocean of tears. Stepping inside is like swallowing the sun. There’s a last time, and a first time, and a third time and an eighth time. There’s twenty-four hours in a day and Karasuno spends all of them on fire. 

The day Sawamura Daichi falls in love with his team is longer than twenty-four hours.

It’s not a special day. It’s not a tournament winning day or a losing day. It’s not a strong day but it’s not a weak day either.

It’s a rainy day, but the moment Daichi steps into the gym he lights up warm to his core.

He told Suga he would be late that day. They started without him, but something’s off. It’s like the team is a machine and a cog is missing. Daichi steps in and everything clicks into place.

He looks at Suga. He looks at his lips. The taste is a familiar one.

Suga always tells him he thinks too much.  _ I know _ , he says. Because he does. He knows.

There’s something about being captain that sits deep in his ribcage. No matter how hard he pokes and prods at his chest, it never shifts. Responsibilities take root in his lungs the minute he sees the blocky number one on his jersey.

Over time, he learns things. Sees things differently.

There are different ways to handle all the relationships he knows. Every friendship and partnership requires a delicate approach. 

When Hinata and Kageyama argue, a slap on the wrist is enough. There’s never more tension between them then there was the first time they met, so anything that comes after is like comparing a pebble to a boulder.

Something happens between Yamaguchi and Tsukishima once. The gym is cold for the rest of practice. Tsukishima leaves early; Suga walks Yamaguchi home. They’re back together the next morning.

The second years never fight. Sometimes Daichi wonders if they forgot what happened in their first year, but they haven’t. They won’t. On a future day, when it’s not so rainy, Ennoshita rubs his own number one between his fingers. Guilt lives in the back of his skull, but it melts away like a brain freeze.

And so Daichi falls in love with his team.

They’re dripping sweat and pride, squeezing the last drops of water out of their bottles and absorbing the last minutes of practice into their bones. Kiyoko and Yachi are chatting softly a few feet away (she’s so open around Yachi, and Daichi is so grateful). Tsukishima is teasing Hinata and Kageyama about something (anything) while Yamaguchi and Kinoshita discuss their serving techniques. Nishinoya is waiting to receive something (anything), vibrating on the other side of the net, backlit by Ennoshita and to a lesser extent, Narita, chewing out Tanaka for something.

(Anything.)

Daichi can taste it. He can feel it in the air, something good. Something new but nostalgic. He can feel it like a strong hand on each shoulder, like Asahi and Suga flanking him on the court. They’re there. They’re always there.

There’s something good embedded in every set, spike, and dig. Daichi is afraid if he closes his eyes, it’ll disappear.

(It doesn’t.)

It stops raining. They get meat buns after practice. Daichi pays— Daichi always pays. 

There’s a constant feeling flowing through him in the night outside Ukai’s store. It’s his team buzzing with conversation, it’s the first years already growing faster than he imagined, it’s catching Suga’s eye from a small distance. It’s a lot.

_ Volleyball is a sport where you’re always looking up _ , Ukai said.

When Daichi looks up, this is what he sees:

He sees Hinata. Kageyama. He sees Tsukishima and Yamaguchi and Yachi. They’re going to do great things, he knows, but still it takes all his strength not to fly after them.

He sees the second years. Nishinoya and Tanaka, Ennoshita and Narita and Kinoshita. They’re so good. Everything is going to be safe in their hands. They cover so much ground that Daichi thinks they might just lie down and claim the gym as their own.

He sees Kiyoko. She’s so much more than they ever deserved, and she’s so much more to all of them then she’ll probably ever know, but all he can think about is how she’s perfected the ice-to-water ratio when she fills up the water bottles— mundane, but a hinge the team relies on. She never fails to understand that concept.

He sees Asahi. Ever switching between being a rock and being the river, he stands determined and strong. He holds himself high, but a part of him still keeps a foot on the ground. He’s yelling but he’s quiet. It takes some time, but he picks himself up. He climbs over the wall.

Then there’s Suga. Suga, who is a poetic line drawn out for hours on end. He doesn’t see Suga when he looks up. He sees Suga when his eyes shift to the right, and the setter is standing—  _ existing  _ next to him. He sees Suga when his eyes are closed, when he needs something to focus on, when Suga stands right in front of him and cups his cheek. Daichi throws everything he has into his receives when he knows they’re headed for the sets he’s known for years.

This is what Daichi sees (this is all he can see). There’s something so tiring about peripheral vision, but he does not want to miss even the smallest moment.

He thinks of the banner hanging in the gym. Sometimes it feels like a cape on his shoulders, and for a split second he thinks he knows how Kageyama felt as the king. He brushes it off in favor of Atlas, because if he is to hold up the world, he will start with his. He will start with Asahi. Kiyoko.  _ Suga _ . He will start with them because they will start with him— every time they will start when he does. They aren’t afraid to dirty their hands in the timeline stains on the gym floor one last time.

Daichi will start with his world first, because he knows his world best. He can fit his whole world in a burning huddle, in the electricity passed between hands on backs and widened eyes and flushed cheeks. He can fit his world on the court, and he does.

When the long whistle finally blows, it is poetry.

On the bus ride back home, he whispers it aloud when he thinks everyone is asleep:

_ I love you. I’m glad I exist. _

**Author's Note:**

> so! how was it ? thoughts? kudos and comments always appreciated!!
> 
> the last line ("i love you. i'm glad i exist") is from the orange by wendy cope! great poem 10/10, makes me so soft everytime i read it. do go check it out :)
> 
> as always, u can find me on twitter @tenlemons!!


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